


Heir to Enfold

by mystic_hyacinth



Series: Tyushnakov Family Values [8]
Category: Original Work, Voltage Series
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adult Content, Aliens, Alternate History, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Drama, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, BAMF Women, Barebacking, Big Sisters, Body Worship, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, Massage, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), POV Female Character, Pegging, Power Bottom, Praise Kink, Protective Siblings, Real Men Wear Tights, Riding, Self Confidence Issues, Service Kink, Service Top, Sibling Rivalry, Step-siblings, Trans Female Character, Women In Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27521212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystic_hyacinth/pseuds/mystic_hyacinth
Summary: During the celebration of his brother's coronation, Kostya is trying to distract himself and Vanya is there to help remind him of his worth.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Tyushnakov Family Values [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854673
Kudos: 2





	Heir to Enfold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimberely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimberely/gifts).



> I've been writing nothing but Avel content for several months so now you're receiving all of it. Dom Vlasti is an alternate universe version of St. Petersburg where it's run by these electric aliens called Nymphs. Kostya and Fedya are brothers and Fedya and Vanya are adoptive siblings. 
> 
> Title comes from The Oh Hello's "Caesar"

Though he doesn’t show it, I know Kostya has little patience for these types of events. He despises showmanship for the sake of showmanship and loathes empty ceremony. Yet, he’ll be quiet for the time being, smile and hope he can make a quick exit when the right moment presents itself. 

I guess in that aspect he hasn’t changed since I met him. He’ll always be the little boy who desperately hated all the attention and only tolerated it out of his own self-sacrificial sense of duty. The grandeur, fittingly, was all for show.

Yet, I know where he’s most comfortable even all these years later: preferably surrounded by books and, if necessary - in the company of someone he doesn’t have to perform for, a title I’m lucky to say I hold almost single handedly.

“Kostya dearest, did you have to dry out the tea leaves yourself?” I call. There’s the sound of tinkering about in the room next to me before the man in question appears. His usually kept hair is frazzled, framing his face in dark, damp curls as he wheels in the little tea tray. “Not very often do I have guests of such high esteem over. I had to make sure everything was done properly.”

I roll my eyes as he begins pouring out tea into the bone china cups. “I’m sure your little diplomat friends would have a fit if they heard you speak so poorly of them.” 

Kostya laughs, one of those rare, genuine laughs that shakes the heavy earrings he’s wearing. “Luckily they’re not here, yes?” he says. “How much sugar do you want?”

“A few lumps please, and a little brandy while you’re at it.”

His ears tick up and he stares at me. “I thought you said you were going easy on the hard stuff for now.”

I lean my head on my hands, feigning mock incredulity. “In all my years I’ve never heard one of you Tyushnakovs refer to brandy as hard liquor. Your mother would be _ashamed_.”

Despite the jab, the smile doesn’t leave him as he goes to slide open one of the shelves in his study to reveal a small lineup of mismatched bottles. “Trust me,” he says, picking up one and examining it before returning to the tea tray. “I’m sure Fedya is bringing a ton of honor to the family line right about now in that respect.”

I watch as he pours out the brandy into my tea and hands it over. “I’ve got pastries as well, if you’d like any.”

I wave him off, gesturing down at the hideous patent leather oxfords he insists on wearing. “What you need to do is get out of those grandpa shoes, they’re making me old by just looking at them.”

He looks down at his shoes before sitting down to take them off. “Listen, I may be a little more conservative in my tastes, but that doesn’t mean I lack style.”

“You have grandpa style.” I say flatly.

His nostrils flare a bit but I can tell he’s having fun. “You dress like a mob boss had a child with one of those old Vegas showgirls.” he says, looking all sly and playful. 

I feign indignance. “You _dare_ mock my prestigious lineage?” I ask, slipping out of my heels before sipping my tea. “Also, I didn’t know you were the type to hang around Vegas showgirls.”

“Oh, I’m not - but Maksim seems to love chasing them. I just end up acting as his handler.”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, don’t think about him for once. That’s not what this is about.”

“Vanya,” he starts, eyes as set as his jawline. “The whole reason you even came to Dom Vlasti was this stupid coronation-anniversary whatever. That’s why you’re here.”

“Legally, yes. I received a formal invitation and arrived. That doesn’t mean I came to kiss Fedya’s ass.” I say.

“Then what did you come for? It seems that’s what all the other guests were content on doing.” he sips his tea, as if genuinely intrigued that someone would show up to his house if not for one of his brothers' orgious bacchanals. 

I pretend to think, checking my nails. “Let’s see. I wanted to see my nieces and my one good nephew, curse that lowlife Cadence that Fedya has chained himself to and of course, probably scout for a new bride.” my eyes float to him. “And mayhaps, see my favorite brother.”

The blush on his cheeks is heavy and see volts crackle on his skin, despite my disdain for his brother and that roach he's married to. “We’re hardly related, Vanya. My mother and yours were close as sisters, but there was no blood between them.”

“Didn’t need to be.” I shrug. “I was Rafa Roulonovna’s daughter once she pulled me out of that orphanage. All her friends and acquaintances became my family. It was just a stroke of luck that one of her closest friends happened to be the Queen of Shurshanov and her little gaggle of boys.” Kostya smiles as if recalling it all as fondly as I do. “Poor little Kostya Tyushnakov and his weak heart and bad eyes, I knew from when I saw him the first time he would be my favorite.”

The smile he cracks is warming, to say the least. “Only so you could bully him whenever Auntie Rafa made you babysit.”

“You lived, didn’t you? And I distinctly recall you begging me to stay over whenever I had to go back to Omsk.”

He hides his face in his hands, embarrassed as I start parroting the words of a much smaller version of him. “ _Vanya, no! Don’t go - I’ll be good I promise!’_ ” I add a little hacking cough for good measure.

Kostya laughs, mussing his hair in a gross imitation of the wild curls I sported in my youth. “ _If you don’t go to bed I’m gonna lock you in the catacombs so Shursha’s ghost can put you to sleep!_ ”

I gasp. “There’s no way I had that much bass in my voice.”

He winks. “You could have made a fine baritone, Vanya.” I want to kick him a little but decide against it, letting the levity of the moment hang over us. Aside from the light thump of the bass from downstairs, Kostya’s study is quiet and he, despite being adorned in all of his royal regalia that I know he despises, seems content. All the medals and brass buttons glimmer in the lowlight and the sharp creases of his suit and sash are slightly rumpled. Even if the heavy crown sits slightly crooked on his head, he doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it suits him.

“I can’t believe it’s been fifteen years already.” he says, breaking the small bout of silence between us. “I mean, I know it’s old news at this point but all this time I thought he was dead.”

My stomach drops a bit. I know I suggested dragging Kostya up from the party in an attempt to distract him from it and I can’t have my plans backfiring on me just because he needs to feel like a martyr in order to feel whole. “I think it would have been better for all of this if he stayed that way.” I say, smiling a little into my cup.

The smile he returns to me is wry. “You know you shouldn’t say that. He’s the rightful heir, I would have been selfish to contest him.”

“And so what? You had every right to be.” I say. “You ran this country for ten years, untrained, underaged and supremely understaffed. I know it wasn’t easy for you or anyone but still, you persevered.” I loudly slurp my tea, intentionally being impolite to catch his attention. “And what did Maksim do? Leave and come back from the dead with some Ancient _pizda,_ claiming a birthright that he renounced. You should have exiled him.”

Kostya runs a hand through his hair, careful to avoid his crown and sighing as if he’s gone through these same motions a million times before and is readying himself for another go-round. “It’s been fifteen years, Vanya. He’s set up his cabinet and done all his good deeds and made heirs, there’s no way I’m ever getting that throne.”

“Then I suppose a little nepoticide is in order.” I purr. Kostya glares daggers at me but otherwise doesn’t comment.

“What I mean is, I’m perfectly content as Providet. I get to wield power without ever sitting on that throne. I don’t have the pressure of needing to marry and have heirs, I don’t have to carry the great House Tyushnakov on my back accept when I leave for work.” 

I roll my eyes. “I’m not dismissing you as Providet, I know it’s a job you work hard at and one you love.” I say, sipping the last bit of my tea and having my eye twitch as Kostya almost instantly reaches to refill it. “Yet, you’re content with a life of servitude. You were a _king_ \- “

“I was a _child_ given a position I wasn’t ready for.” his voice is grim, I try to tread lightly. 

“Yet, at fourteen you rose to such an occasion. You kept the nation from collapsing.”

“I had no choice! I wasn’t going to just do what Maksim did and flee. Whatever remained of the country I had to salvage it, even as all Four Horsemen invaded our borders, I had to be the one to hold them back.”

“So you did and what has Maksim done save for taking credit and making a mockery of you and this family?”

Kostya huffs. “I’m a public servant, it’s in my line of work to do for others before I do it for myself. Maksim seems content with using his power to hurt others.”

“And couldn’t you change that?”

His brows furrow. “You’re suggesting a coup?”

Since when did coups go out of fashion? “Kostya, I’m suggesting you examine yourself. Your mother left the throne to Nikolai, of course. Yet, now that he’s gone you have a chance to rise about your station. When that Nadia girl is old enough you can place her in charge of the Providet’s cabinet and move onto bigger things, you’ve relegated yourself to the sidelines for too long.” 

“I’m not risking stability in this country over a petty power struggle.” he waves me off, though I can see frustration starting to take its toll on him. “People accept Maksim as the rightful ruler, whether I want it or not. We exist in two separate spheres.”

“Yet I can guarantee you nobody at that party saw you on equal footing with his Majesty. To many of them, your primary role is Prince Kostya Tyushnakov, held back because at the end of the day, they count you not as your own man, but an extension of his power. A crony, a puppet.”

I know it’s going to anger him but I steel myself and remain calm. The point of this was not to fight, it was to enlighten. 

The lights flicker and his tea set slams harshly against the table before he moves towards me. He’s half standing, with one of his knees still digging into the loveseat and the other planted firmly on the floor. His eyes are intense, fiery, the type of eyes that can remain so calm, so stoic that you can almost forget they’re capable of portraying anger.

I can feel the power and I let him exert it.

“I am not his puppet. I was the king, now it’s over. I don’t need that kind of power again, he can have it - let it burn him out and drive him mad. When his time comes I’ll let it consume him like it did my mother.”

I smile. “And when it does? When you’re still good and sane?”

In this stillness of the moment is when I rise. “Come on, Kostya. Come and sit down, I don’t want to argue like this anymore.” my tone is sweet, lilting - maybe even a little deeper to act as someone Kostya knew a long time ago.

He responds to it after some resistance and sits back down, slumping into the loveseat once more. I go to pour him some more tea and hand it to him before walking behind the couch and placing my hands on his shoulders, rubbing gently. “I’m sorry I said that. I really am.”

He runs a hand over his face before relaxing into my touch. “I mean, it’s not alright. I accept your apology.” he hums. “Still, I’m not sure what you’re suggesting.”

“It’s not me. I’m no Tyushnakov, I have no right to that throne.” I say. “Yet, you do. You always have. Unless you do like Grisha and renounce it fully, it will always be within arms reach of you. And I’ve always known you to be ambitious when it comes to grabbing what you want.”

“I wouldn’t be doing it for me, Vanya. To be a King is to be servant to all, not just your own hedonism.” he groans a little into my touch and I roll my thumbs faster.

“Then in that way you can more adequately serve your people at home rather than whatever strange corner of the world being the Providet puts you in every month. They know your strength, they’re waiting for you, Kostya.” 

“They don’t need someone strong, they need someone reasonable.” he says, tilting his head back so that it's resting on the back of the loveseat and he’s looking up at me. “Very few people are both, you know.”

I smile, “I just so happen to be looking directly at one of those numbered few.”

He looks up at me, eyes returned to their usual even tempered, curious softness. “You can’t do this to me, Vanya. The last thing I need is for you to try and talk up my ego.”

“One: it’s not entirely unwarranted. Two: you bully your ego so much I’m pretty sure it should have filed for battery at this point.” he smiles at that, the regret from snapping at me seeming to melt away from him. “You know you’re the rightful king, Kostya. Even if you don’t take the throne, know that you are. He’s more a child in a too-big chair than you ever were. Shurshanov couldn’t survive without you, they just need him for the entertainment he provides.”

“My brother is a clown, is that the final takeaway?”

I smirk. “I was going to say dumpster fire but if you want to be politically correct, then sure.”

He smiles up and me and I down at him. “May I ask you something, Your Majesty?”

He laughs, “You know that’s not my title, it’s Highness. Weren’t you paying attention when they were calling me out downstairs?”

“I don’t believe I’m the stuttering type, Your Majesty.”

Kostya laughs but nonetheless looks up at me, content to play along. “Madame Vanya Vasilissa Mitin, Lady of Omsk and Governess Prior.” he says, mimicking the way my name was called at the ceremony (minus half the tedious titles). “What is it you ask of me?”

“To serve you, Your Majesty.” 

Kostya snickers as he looks up at me. “You’re a riot but you know you don’t have to do this.” he says. “I’m no king, I needn’t be the center of such fanfare.” 

I look him over for a moment, bringing my hands up to brush his hair and adjust his crown. “You’re right, you deserve much more than me trying to flatter you with empty words and the crooning of some Omsk street rat.” I say, moving from behind the couch to face him once more. “What you need is action.”

In loathing my self-deprecating Kostya tries his best to reassure me that I’m not just some lowly street rat but I cut him off by working my way into his lap. Kostya isn’t weak, not by any means but I’m well aware of the rather _voluptuous_ aspects of my figure and wouldn’t want this little moment torn apart because I’ve managed to snap his pelvis. Kostya takes a deep breath and almost on instinct his arms come up to hold my hips, trying to steady me though he knows full well I’m doing enough stabilizing for both of us.

“Vanya?”

I lean down to him, where I know my breath is ticking his neck and I hear him let out a sigh. “If I’m kissing anyone’s ass, it deserves to be the one of the rightful King.” my tongue delves out to the hollow of his collarbone and I can hear the soft yet tinny noise of his volts singing beneath his skin. 

“We don’t have to do this.” he says, he’s already breathless and I can feel him start to shiver as I run my hands over him. Usually I would expect him to make a fuss about creasing his suit but he refuses, instead just gripping me tighter whenever my hands ghost over somewhere sensitive. 

“We don’t have to, Your Majesty.” I whisper against his neck, kissing and licking at it once more. Yet I think it’s something we both know that you’re in desperate need of.”

“I’m not a virgin, Vanya.”

I pause to look up at him properly. His face is flushed purple and the deep crimson of his eyes is shining, maybe tears? There’s a strong possibility he’s a crier. “I never said you were, simply forgetting just who you are and how you should be treated.”

His hands grow more forceful in their grip on me. “You don’t have to give me any special treatment. I’m only me.”

“It’s not special if it’s the standard.” I whisper. “Shurshanov will forever be indebted to you, consider this as some pocket change to pay you back.”

When I kiss him it isn’t forceful, in fact - it’s Kostya that seems so intent on deepening it. He’s practically ravenous, pulling me closer with a firm yet gentle hand. I don’t pull away, easing my weight down on him. It seems he likes having all of me consuming him and pulls me closer, allowing me to explore his mouth with mine and moaning as the fork of my tongue licks his lips. He tastes of burnt oolong with the hint of something slightly sour and I wonder to myself if all the stress of the party has made him turn to smoking again. Regardless, I keep kissing him, lost in just how good at it he is, even though I can feel just how needy he is as well. 

Mentally, I want to tell him I’ll take care of him, praise him like I should. But for now, this is all fine with me and most likely with him too. My hands move, trying to touch him more though with the bulkiness of his garb it makes it difficult. No matter, I’ll get him out of it sooner or later. 

When I finally pull away, he's breathless and I give him one last peck on the cheek for good measure. “How long has it been since someone’s done that with you?”

“That depends, how old are we now?” he says, trying to be coy and failing miserably given how much his chest is heaving and how hard he’s getting through his trousers. I hum a laugh as I begin to work my way back down his jawline and neck, he sighs into it. Instead of having my hands roaming like last time I try my best to steady myself with one hand whilst undoing my hook-and-eye with the other (a maneuver that’s taken years of practice to perfect). Kostya notices and I can feel his hands come up to rest on my forearms. “Need any help?” he asks. I don’t respond, simply pulling off of his body entirely until I can stand and strip the gown off me. I can only smirk when his eyes go wide. 

The set is hardly new but something I’ve kept it in good enough condition over the years to make it appear as though I just bought it last month. Though I know with the deep red and black lace of the panties and balconette it sits against my skin and makes me look like a Christmas tree, especially when you add in all the crisscrossing strings of pearls attached like bunting at the nipples of the bra and all over the hips of the panties. However, when you tell some custom shop in Moscow that you’d like ‘burlesque but functional’ I guess you can’t complain when they make you something like this. Yet, I’m not complaining and judging by the way Kostya’s eyes catch on me, neither is he. 

I know he wears lingerie as well, he tells me about it and how pretty it makes him feel (though he insists his fondness is all in the name of practicality). Yet, I think he’s less concerned about my half-naked form then he is the style of the lacework. I think he gets off more on that, though the bulge of his trousers that he’s palming at shouldn’t go unnoticed.

“Close your mouth, Kostya. How will I kiss you if there are any flies in there?” I say, his eyes fall to the growing bulge in my own underwear and I smile at him, slowing slinking down between his spread legs. 

“I’m trying my best.” he says and spreads himself a little more to allow me some room. 

“Look at you, are you not a King?” I say, speaking more to his thighs then to him as I run my fingers up and down them. “Look how you sit, as though the world is beneath you. You know who you are, it’s only because of that trashy Fedya that you forget.” I place my hand over his, palming the bulge and relishing as he moans at the extra pressure. He’s long, from what I can feel. Not terribly thick but pretty good, I find myself jealous of any lovers he’s kept but try to keep such wrathful emotions at bay. Now is time for us, more specifically, for him. 

“Do you mind? I ask.

“I never could, Lady Omsk. Please.”

I smirk and carefully pull the buttons apart. Kostya’s cock, seemingly unfettered by underwear, springs forwards. What Kostya lacks in girth he makes up for in pure length, the thing between his legs is only half hard and still looking like it would be enough to make anyone cry if he used it right, not to mention the sizable amount of skin where his knot would be once he’s fully hard. Knowing him though, he’d never abuse someone with this, even if he rightfully should.

I give it a few testing strokes and Kostya moans. “Commando, Kostya? And shaven? What were you expecting?”

“I was only being sensible. These clothes are stuffy enough as it is, the only reason I can wear underwear with my regular clothes is because at least they have some decent airflow.” he says, I hum for his decency’s sake but nonetheless keep my eyes trained on him. “Regardless, your cock is so nice and big, Your Majesty. I can’t wait to taste it.”

Though I am more well-versed on pussy eating, I’ve gotten enough hours logged of cock sucking to know the basics of teasing and torturing. Plus my dearest Lorelei, bless her heart, has done it to me enough times that I think I’ve got the hang of it after all these years. 

Mimicking what I know would feel good on my cock, I kiss the tip. Kostya’s groan is like sweet crooning to me so I continue. My tongue circles the head, just barely dipping into the slit where the metallic taste of his pre hits me quicker than I expected. I allow both of my hands to come up, one of them bracing my weight on his thigh, the other kneading at his balls, trying my best to get his knot to fill out the best I can. 

When I’m done kissing and teasing the head I finally take it into my mouth, starting off with rough teasing sucks before slowly making my way farther down. Kostya’s moans get loader and oddly more rhythmic, pitching up and down in time with the movements of my mouth. I moan around him and he cries out to meet me, pushing himself deeper down my throat.

Though I know I’m a lot more trained to take cock down my throat than I seem, I choke and gag just so he can feel what it's like to have something contract around him like this. For a moment I think of shifting my cock and just allowing him to slam my cunt, but I restrain myself. Right now I’m at his command and by the looks of him above me, there’s no way I’m getting control back any time soon. 

Slowly and torturously I pull myself off his dick, surprised he didn’t try to hold me in place. “May I take these off for you, Your Majesty?” I ask sweetly, tugging at the hem of his trousers. Kostya nods and though this whole scene is supposed to be about me taking care of him he still insists on helping me out, lifting his hips and pushing down his trousers as I pull. Before I can return to sucking him off I feel him move before a hollow thud sounds against the carpet and he sits completely nude above me.

Fedya lives to exaggerate and flaunt but I know Kostya would prefer to be gorgeous in the most understated way possible, like a prize-winning poem that only has a few lines in it. He’s always been a beauty and I _know_ he knows it. His scales glimmer in just the right ways, the dips and grooves of his markings roll off his skin gracefully like the foothills of the countryside. His eyes, though marked by that striking ruby red that blesses every Tyushnakov, are less flashy or sinister and more stately, crown jewels if I’ve ever seen them.

There are very few people in this world I would call truly beautiful, alluring or intriguing maybe, but Fedya is a vision. I know he knows it, I just have to show him he’s right. 

“I figured with all those medals it would take the jacket would take a while to get out of.”

He blushes, embarrassed at his own eagerness. “It’s only a few buttons.” he says. “You’re welcome to continue.” 

I smile before taking him back down my throat. He twitches deliciously in my mouth to the point where I can taste some of his pre dribbling out of him. I feel almost proud as I keep going, contracting my throat around his cock and feeling as his fingers come to knot in my hair and he holds me in place, the movements of his hips becoming more and more steady as he goes.

Kostya doesn’t fuck my face, continuing to go easy on me even as I insist he take all that he believes he deserves. However, the sensation is delicious and I find myself working at my straining cock through my own underwear. 

As Kostya’s hips move faster I allow my eyes to roll back into my head but don’t entirely close them, allowing Kostya to still make eye contact with me though his eyes have narrowed to slit. “You’re such a good servant for me, Madame Vanya.” he chokes out. “Perfect in every way.”

I moan a thank you and his hips keep moving. In the throes of such pleasure he tries to keep his wits about him, but judging by the escalation of his movements and moans, such composure is nearly impossible. I fasten my lips around him more, allowing the sloppy, wet noises of my mouth on him begin to echo throughout the room. I release my free hand from its steadying position on his thigh and go to work it through my bra. Now I see what drives Lorelei so crazy, the feeling of having a dick in your mouth is dizzying.

Even with him halfway down my throat I can open my eyes wide enough to notice him fix his crown as if trying to retain some decorum, some bit of the regal lure he holds effortlessly. 

If I weren’t between his legs, I would give him a pat on the back for his sense of dignity. 

Only after a few more minutes of this does he pull me off of his cock, trying to catch his breath as I give him one last shiver-inducing lick along the tip. “Your Majesty,” I coo, my head bowed and my eyes averted from his. “Would you like me to open myself up for you?”

I’m surprised when Kostya lifts my head to meet his and his voice dips to a gentle purr after a few beats of quiet. “Actually, I would prefer if you did that for me, Lady Omsk.” he says. “I keep some lube in the third drawer on the right, it’d be wise if you grabbed it for me.”

I can’t help but to shiver in anticipation as I stand and go to rummage through his desk. The jar is pretty big, though it’s half empty and my mind runs through a billion and a half ways Kostya got it that way. Despite my thoughts I return to the loveseat and Kostya spreads his legs, though he stops me before I can stoop down and set to work at getting him open.

“Your bottoms, Madam Vanya.” his voice is barely above a whisper. “I want to see what I’m to be working with this evening.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” I say, setting the tin down for a moment as I go to shimmy out of my panties. When the pearls clack to the floor I watch as his eyes widen. I know I’m big, thick and veiny, it only makes sense compared to the rest of me. Lorelei has sung my praises many a night when I’ve had her caught on my cock (the knot in particular) and has called me when she’s away on business telling me that no toy nor one night fling has managed to fill her the way I do. I briefly lament that I may ruin Kostya in much the same way. Yet, as King, you only need the finest.  
  
“Is this alright for you, Your Majesty?”

“It will do just fine, Madame. Now come, you’ve work to do.” I smirk as I return to my post between his legs and inch them apart just a little bit more. Again, he helps me by hooking one of his hands underneath his legs to hold himself open while his other hands work slowly at his cock. Always a saint, my Kostya.

Slowly my finger begins to circle his rim. He breathes sharply but I don’t need to coerce him to get him to relax. I thank my foresight for choosing to ditch the acrylics for this event and just trying to wiggle one finger inside of Kostya.

“How does that feel, Your Majesty.”

“Rapturous.” he practically hisses and I’m frankly surprised he manages to remain a walking thesaurus even with his hole stuffed like this. I circle my one finger around more before slowly pulling it out and scooping out another generous helping of lube before delving back in with two more fingers. Kostya sighs into it and begins stroking his cock faster. “Lady Omsk, you have no idea."

“Given the physical evidence,” I say, crooking my fingers and smiling as he yelps. “I think I have a pretty good idea what effect this has on you, Your Majesty.” 

I keep pushing my fingers in and out, crooking and unfurling them inside him until his hips move to chase them whenever I pull away. He’s a little more wanton than I expected but I nonetheless indulge him (and myself of course, it’s so rare to find such exceptional switches these days that you can’t take them for granted).

When my two fingers turn to three is when he really begins to get vocal. “Fuck,” he whispers and I’m surprised, it’s not a word he says often, at least not to me. His brows crease and his hand moves faster around his cock. “That’s just it, Vanya. Curl them.”

I listen to him and curl my fingers some more, he purrs and finally cries out once I brush his prostate. “Y-yes.” he says, words broken and voice trembling. “Beautifully done.” 

I keep going, massinging that sweet spot just to see how far I can get him to go. He cries out some more, riding my hand and I let him take his pleasure in it, happy to see him lose it for a little while before his whines start to pitch too high and he has to wrestle to bring himself back down to earth again. 

“Alright.” he says breathlessly, adjusting his crown once more. “I think I’m ready. Here, sit on the couch facing the window. I’ll take it from there.” 

He stands and I eagerly take his place, sitting down with my legs spread on the loveseat. To my slight disappointment, Kostya doesn’t turn to face me but instead his back meets my front. I would have loved to see his expressions but I try to lean my neck over so I can at least get a glimpse of his profile. 

Kostya gives my cock a few good strokes before he starts to lower himself down. “Do you want me to get a rubber?” I ask, clinging onto my last vestige of reason before he engulfs me. Kostya shakes his head. “You’re a loyal subject of mine, I trust you.” his voice is weighty, like the fate of the realm rests on my ability to use protection. 

Once he’s managed to position himself properly does he begin to sink down. He moans at just the tip being pushed inside him. I’m no better, groaning my praises as he works his way down my cock. “Kostya.” I whisper, breaking character for a split second.

Kostya’s voice sounds strained but still he speaks, trying to fuck himself on my cock in short bursts in order to fit more of me inside him. “If you do well enough for me, I’ll have a mold fashioned of your cock.” he says. “Maybe even keep it in the throne room with me.”

I hold his hips more securely now and give a small thrust upwards. “Is it big enough for you, Your Majesty?” I ask. “Does it stretch you out enough?”

“Just enough.” he moans, still trying to get further down. My knot is slowly inflating and I know that in this state I wouldn’t be able to properly impregnate him. However, nothing is stopping me from dreaming of the thought that my seed could one day become Ruler Regent of All the Realm. I know it’s an orphan’s power fantasy but I can dream, best keep my hubris at bay in the presence of His Majesty. 

Finally I watch as the last of my cock sinks inside him and we both sit there for a moment. He’s tight, vice-like, perfect and velvety and more than I ever dreamed he would be. Though he’s trying to maintain his composure I can see him shaking, moving gently as he tries to handle the cock he’s got himself caught on. “So impressive, Lady Omsk. Truly I should make a position for you for being so blessed in your endowments.” 

“Is that what I am to you, Your Majesty? The Imperial Cock?”

The little side eye Kostya gives me is once again playful. “That would be me, of course.” he coos, stroking himself as if to show off. “Though I do think in practice it would make a nice title for you.”

I roll my hips slowly just to hear him moan. “You’re too kind, Your Majesty.” 

“It’s not kindness, it’s philanthropy.” he rolls his hips to meet mine and we both groan. I watch as he lifts himself up and down, crown clinking against his horns as he moves. I hold his hips, not to force myself upwards but to simply act as an anchor as he takes his pleasure from me. 

Kostya’s up and down is steady like him at first. Economical, practical, utilitarian as if he knows he mustn't have too much fun lest he ruin it for someone else. Yet after those initial testing strokes he starts to lose himself, growing wilder and more experimental with his movements. “You speak of me, Lady Omsk. But the Realm owes you a great debt for doing this for me, not many would allow their king to do this with me.”

“Shall I receive a medal for such a high honor?” I tease, rolling my hips up to match his rhythm.

He moans as my cock brushes his sweet spot. “You’ll outrank my top generals, know that.”

I grin and start to fuck him faster as he moves quicker on my cock. I can only imagine what he looks like from the front, his body pitched forward, face delicious with pleasure and crown jewels still serving to be the third or fourth most enrapturing thing when he wears them. Yet I want to see him. Maybe all these years of marriage has made me soft, but I like to know what my partners look like when I’m fucking them, it’s part of the experience. The worst he can do is say no. 

“Your Majesty.” I say, slapping his hips a few times to get him to stop. “Turn to face me, please. I would like to see what you look like as I do this to you.”

His ears perk up like a cats and he obliges me with a, “If it serves the realm, I will.”

After a few moments of clamoring I can see him fully. Like I said, the Tyushnakovs are known for dark, striking beauty no matter how much evil it hides. Yet, despite popular opinion, Kostya will always be the most gorgeous, if it wasn’t considered treason to say that I would paint it across the Victory Bridge. 

“Remember what we said about flies, Lady Omsk.” Kostya teases and pretty soon he’s back to riding me with vigor, eyes falling closed as he loses himself in the pleasure. 

My hands return to his hips and this time I do thrust upwards. Judging by how his whines start to pitch, his ass hole constricts and his hands come to grip at my shoulders, I know I’ve struck gold inside of him. 

“You’re a dream, Your Majesty. I can’t stop looking at you.” I whisper.

“Then don’t. Never do.” he says, his eyes slowly opening once more. “Look at me. Look into my eyes and see what I do to you.” 

Abruptly he slows his movements and clenches down on me and suddenly I feel as though he’s grinding up my cock, truly taking his pleasure as his face remains almost unnervingly stoic. It’s the discipline Fedya could never fathom, grace Kolya never knew how to wield. It’s power refined.

I groan and I do fuck up into him, but he doesn’t get upset, moaning out as I do it. “I know you like this, Lady Omsk. I can feel your knot.” he whispers, teeth ghosting over the shell of my ear. “Sink it in me, Lady Omsk. Come in me. I will not beg for it.” 

It’s here where I grip his hips and properly fuck him. He doesn’t reprimand it, allowing himself to be jostled about as I chase my orgasm inside him. He strokes his cock in time with my movements, knot swelling to a purple knob at the base of his cock. His jewelry jingles and chimes with every stroke and his moans sound like an aria as they get more breathy and desperate.

“D-do it.” his voice is barely above a whisper amid the wet slapping in the room. “Do it.”

I can’t look at him the moment my knot finally seats itself inside him and locks, spilling deeply and painting his innards. Though, I feel him twitch around me, hear his moans falter as he experiences the deep and visceral joy that is having a heavy load dumped inside you. I open one bleary eye and I watch as he continues to stroke, unable to move now that I’m sealed in his hole.

“You look gorgeous, your Majesty, but I bet no family jewels compare to the beauty that is you covered in your own cum.”

With the near instantaneous burst of cum and moan I’ll have to file away ‘praise kink’ into my mental list of Kostya’s kinks. The silvery fluid paints him and he keeps twitching even as the ropes get smaller and his moans start to quiet until finally we can only look at one another.

I kiss him once more, his lips more addictive than any drug I’ve known. 

“That was...that was perfect, Vanya.” he says once the silence between us is in dire need of dissipation. “I apologize if I talked down a bit to you, I don’t like offending you.”

I wave him off, “I’ve been offended by homlier people with less self-esteem, don’t worry.” I say. “Do you believe me now, Kostya? Do you believe you deserve more than just the paltry position of Providet?”

I can feel the quiver of his laughter as he leans against me, the afterglow making him even more radiant. “I may need further convincing, Lady Omsk.” I smirk and he goes to kiss me again, deep and sweet in a way that makes me envious of every kiss I’ve missed with him. 

For a moment we just rest there before suddenly, outside his balcony doors, great bursts of color begin to erupt in the night sky and an uproar starts rumbling through the floorboards. Fireworks boom and bang over the river and though I have to crane to see his face, I know there isn’t a mournful note in his expression.

It’s not like a child enchanted by the sound and color, nor a man resolute after being pushed aside for years by the greater of several evils. He looks out at the river and takes a deep breath, knowing that deep down, the devotion and ostentation belonged to him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @plentyokenty
> 
> Stay safe!


End file.
